The Little Things
by Growly Genet
Summary: The Irkens' conquest was a success, but in its aftermath the galaxy is in chaos, rebellion runs rampant and the fate of an entire empire may rest in the hands of its smallest soldier. Companion story to TTBU
1. Advisor

The Little Things

A TTBU Side Story

Author's Note: This is set slightly before and during the events of The Things Between Us. You don't have to read both...they stand just fine on their own, but later I'm hoping to do something to bring the two arcs together - at which time, it would probably be beneficial to have looked at both of the stories.

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**Prologue:**

A week after Operation Impending Doom I 

"What do you have to say for yourself, soldier?" The Tallest's voice rang out through the chamber, making the shorter Irken standing before the dais cringe slightly. He was still a mess, even after a week of recoup time. One antenna hung limply down the side of his face, and the many gouges scattered over his body had begun to heal over, but would obviously leave scars. He had the general appearance of one who has been on the wrong end of a weapon of mass destruction. Were one to inquire about the matter, that would have been approximately how he would have summed it up.

A weapon of mass destruction - to his mind that described Zim perfectly.

"Well?" He'd spent too much time thinking, as the annoyed note in the ruby-eyed Tallest's voice grew more pronounced.

Lowering his head, he wiggled his good antenna placatingly. "I only did as I thought best, my Tallest." His voice was low, humble, as was proper when addressing the leaders of the empire.

"Oh, c'mon Red," This was quieter, but piercing nonetheless. "Just throw him out of an airlock and be done with it!"

"After the entire Empire has seen his ugly face in the Broadcastia reports?" Red hissed back impatiently. The listening Irken thought they probably intended to keep the conversation between themselves - private - but it was fairly easy to hear everything, even with one non-functioning antenna. They weren't exactly subtle, the Tallest. "It's bad PR, Pur."

"Since when have you cared what anyone else thought?" The violet-eyed tallest seemed utterly shocked by the notion, "I mean after that incident on Devastis..."

"Just shut up! It's a **bad** idea, got me?"

"...yeah... We're clear." Purple agreed, grudgingly.

"Besides, we still have to do **something** with him."

"If you can't get rid of him, why not promote him?" Purple yawned, then immediately winced preemptively as Red whirled to face him with startling speed. "Wait! **Wait**! Bad idea! Forget I said anything!"

"Pur... You. Are. A. Genius!" Red breathed, his antennae perked and his eyes glittering with scarcely concealed enthusiasm. "That's **perfect**!" He turned back to the Irken still waiting below the dais patiently, although now wearing the expression of one who is facing the gallows. "You, what's your name? Stork!"

"Crow." The Irken corrected under his breath. As expected, he was not heard.

"As a result of your... er... actions, we've decided to promote you! You're now... um... an advisor! Report to the control brain for reassigning and you can begin your new work immediately!" He waved a dismissive hand at the newly promoted solder - an 'I've done my good deed for the day, now get out of my sight' sort of gesture.

The new advisor turned stiffly and began to march away, half limping the entire distance, but doing his best not to show it. It wasn't the easiest task, yet he did a better job of concealing the physical deformities than he did of keeping the bubbling anger under wraps.

The last thing he heard before the doors irised shut was Purple's voice, high and enthusiastic, asking if Red really meant that about the "genius", followed by Red's mutter of "lasers", and the expected scream of pain which was cut-off halfway through.

The door wasn't shut for more than a second or two before the new advisor started to scream. "Why? Why in Irk's name? Ugh... What did I do to **deserve** this!"

A passing service drone hesitated, staring at the distressed advisor with curiosity gleaming in his red eyes. "What **did** you do?"

Crow turned with a snarl, striding up to the service drone with only the barest hint of a limp and kicking it across the corridor where it slammed into the metal wall with a bone-jarring thump. He cursed almost immediately at the flare of pain that ran through his gimp leg at the action. The stunned service drone could only twitch convulsively as the taller Irken hobbled up to it and bent over.

"You'll keep your mouth shut," He hissed low, his eyes gleaming with frightening intensity as he towered over the drone. The tiny Irken nodded frantically, trying to convey approval, but it could see the spider legs emerging from Crow's pack, rising and spreading in a mockery of dark wings - the stripped and exposed wires still sputtering and releasing little showers of electric sparks. "You won't ask me that again, will you?" His voice had dropped to a low purr, almost a secretive tone.

The drone nodded again, swallowing nervously.

"Good boy." Crow patted it on the head and watched it relax marginally, thinking itself safe. Then, without any further warning, he plunged the ragged tip of one of his spider legs clean through it, impaling it on the bent and twisted metal. It squealed like a dying rat as the leg bit deeper - hit the thinner metal of the pak and sheared through.

It was over as soon as the Pak was speared, the insides gutted beyond repair. Quick... but the frozen expression of terror and pain on the drone's face belied any notion that the swiftness of the drone's demise had made it an easy one. He stared a moment longer, a smile lingering on his face, then slowly withdrew the limb, folding it and pulling it into his pak.

"I'm so glad we see, eye to eye." He told the corpse with a faint smile before glancing back at the closed door. He laid his good antennae back for a moment, sharply, before raising it again and wiggling it in a mockery of the traditional salute.

"Long live my Tallest..."

He continued down the corridor heedlessly, listening to the frantic scuttling of more drones rushing over, trying to clean up the mess before the Tallest emerged from their audience chamber.


	2. Devastis

**The Little Things**

Notes: This takes place before Operation Impending Doom II. This story is a prequel/semi-sequel/companion piece to The Things Between Us.

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**Book One: Trainee**

_01_

_-Devastis-_

"Awright, you maggots! Listen up!" At these harsh, barking words, the assembled trainees immediately straightened up and did their best to appear attentive. For some this was a task far easier said than done, however. New trainees weren't as rare a commodity now as they had been before the Vort alliance - borrowed technology made it possible to disband much of the Irken scientist caste and reassign them - generally to the military. Grob was not one of those reassignees - in fact, he'd worked as a drill instructor on Devastis for over two centuries.

Truth be told, Grob had little faith in the ability of the average science drone to adapt to the harsher lifestyle of a soldier unit. They simply didn't have the necessary reflexes and - as most of them had been working their fields almost as long as he'd been in his - they were not likely to change easily. _Damn it all... the best use for most of this lot is cannon fodder. _He marched slowly up and down the line, wondering if he'd get any use out of them at all. Weapons designers, spaceship engineers, bio-mechanics - even a sanitation drone or two that had been left jobless when the research facilities were shut down. _Great... Just great_. Of the actually **new** trainees - there were about eight out of the sixty-something that had arrived - only one looked particularly promising.

"Trainee Tenn!" Grob barked again, pegging out what he regarded as the best potential soldier in the lot. A moderately-sized female, Tenn still had an unruffled air that seemed to command a measure of respect. She drew herself up to her full advantage and saluted crisply.

"Sir!"

"You'll be the team leader for 'A' Squadron." It was traditional for the recruits to be divided into groups, to be headed by squadron leaders. Supposedly it was to increase the functionality and orderliness of the training process, but that was completely bogus. Grob knew from experience that it only made things more complicated. The real advantage was that it allowed him to divide his troops up by their abilities , as well as using the squadrons as a testing ground for leadership potential trainees. For that purpose, the division worked well.

Grob quickly did the mental calculations. Five teams would be sufficient for him to cull out the worst of the lot and arrange the would-be soldiers by likely success rates. "For the others... Spleen!" The one he addressed was a former scientist, to be sure, but what bothered the military instructor the most was that spleen was a fourth of an inch taller than himself - technically his superior if not for the overhaul. He wasn't eager to deal too closely with the scientist, but the taller Irken's eyes had a shrewd glint, intelligent glint to them. "You'll be heading off 'B' Squadron."

This division pulled out the best of the lot, the most likely to succeed (or at least survive) at the training - and Grob divvied them up nearly equally between the two squadron leaders before getting back to the business at hand. "Grundy - Squadron 'C' is yours." The Irken in question was known for his big mouth, but he could also think quickly. That would likely prove a useful trait in a leader. "And you, Larb, Squadron 'D'." The lanky newcomer had an easy stance that Grob approved of. It was probably more cocksure than real, but D was going to lose trainees - it was inevitable. C Squadron probably would too, but the odds there were a little better there, so of course they got all of the remaining "good" candidates.

Separating D from E was a trickier task... and for the fiftieth time, Grob cursed the new reassigning for making his job harder than it needed to be. At last, he just pointed out the ones he figured were as good as Blorch food. They were probably going to die anyway, so no harm done there. The rest of them went to D Squad.

All he needed now was a team leader for the "cannon fodder" squadron. Not that it was a task that required much deep thought or imagination. After all, any pathetic, doomed, loser would do.

"You, um... Skoodge. You'll lead Squadron 'E'." He pointed at the painfully short and ugly Irken near the end of the line. The Irken trainee in question shot him a strange look, antennae twitching in a near-convulsive manner, but he didn't argue. He just saluted, rather unsteadily.

With that out of the way, Grob could get down to the real work. "Form up in your Squadrons! Leaders in front! The rest of you maggots better form up in straight lines behind your commanders! I see any hands, legs or antennae poking out of line and they'll be makin' friends with my blaster." The trainees jumped into action instantly, scrambling into lines - two wide by fifteen long, with their squadron leaders at their head. Guts were sucked in, antennae pressed tightly back and limbs pulled firmly against their bodies. Grob could barely hide a smirk - Scientists! How stupid could they be?

He marched towards them, making a slow circle. The trainees tensed visibly when he approached them, a good sign as far as the experienced soldier was concerned. A little fear would serve to keep them in line until they forgot all about thinking for themselves and started obeying orders without feeling a need to question. That was the real fear - that these scientist-types would actually dare to have ideas. No use for that here - or ever again, if they were truly going to be soldiers. Soldiers didn't need to think!

As he passed by the tail end of E Squadron, he was about ready to pick out someone as a scapegoat. It wouldn't particularly matter if they were actually doing anything wrong or not - what counted was that these pathetic would-be soldiers needed to have the point driven home in some way they would remember. The one he pegged for this necessary demonstration was an Irken of medium height with a long narrow head and a jittery air. "You! What's your name soldier?"

"Scientist Jeeg - Navigation Systems Designer, first class, Sir." The shorter Irken replied with only a moment of hesitation. Grob frowned, noticing that he'd even remembered to add the "Sir" there at the end, making it more difficult to find a reason to punish this unfortunate trainee. The response had been pure protocol, except for... The drill instructor's eyes narrowed, a smile crossing his lips that boded none too well for Jeeg.

"Yes, Jeeg..." His voice dropped to a pleasant purr, "State that again, Trainee. Word for word, if you please." But despite his phrasing, it was obvious to everyone that his words were a command, not a request.

Jeeg had certainly caught his mistake, if the expression on his face was any indication. His antennae twitched ever so slightly, and he blinked, but he did as Grob commanded without any telltale hesitation, "Scientist Jeeg - Navigation Systems Designer, first class, Sir."

Grob rounded on him then, his tone scathing, "You think pretty well of yourself, don't you, Trainee? Tell me 'Scientist Jeeg', just where and when do you propose to work on designing navigation systems while we're engaging in hand to hand combat with the adversary?" Jeeg flinched a little, but didn't actually back down or collapse - a minor point, but Grob was a bit impressed despite himself. Perhaps these scientists weren't all the weakling pushovers they appeared to be. He dismissed the idea fairly quickly - in all likelihood, he'd just pegged someone too stupid to realize the trouble he was getting himself into.

"N...nowhere, Sir." The former scientist's voice was a little shaky, a little faint, but still very much audible. The other trainees were squirming a little, a few of them were twitching their own antennae in discomfort. Not sympathy - that would have been unexpected and unwelcome in a soldier - they were just afraid that they would find themselves singled out next. Grob knew what they must be thinking - better him than them. Yeah, they'd make passable soldiers.

"That's right, you miserable little worm," Grob actually sneered this time. "Nowhere! You know why that is?" The trainee looked like he was about to answer the question and Grob cut him off, "I didn't tell you to SPEAK, did I, Trainee?"

Jeeg definitely flinched there, and the instructor smiled to himself upon seeing it. Things were finally proceeding according to plan. Of course he was likely to be nervous - he'd just been posed with a situation where there was nothing he could do that wouldn't be a punishable offense. He'd been forbidden to speak, and not answering a direct question would have been a violation of protocol. Grob wondered which of the two options the former scientist would pick. He couldn't help a little smirk as the scientist drew himself up with an air of resignation, "No, you didn't, Sir."

"And the maggot speaks again! Apparently he thinks we still haven't heard enough of his mewling!" Grob's voice dropped to a facsimile of a reasonable tone, "Well, Trainee, it seems that you have managed to try even my infinite patience. Perhaps a few weeks on KP duty will teach you a bit more respect for the chain of command around here." The scientist drooped a little at this, and Grob marched back towards the front of the line. He noticed the rest of the lot straightening up as he passed them, probably afraid to be singled out next. Good.

As soon as he'd resumed his previous position at the head of the lines, Grob addressed the entire group. "You've had it easy so far, but don't think for even a moment that this is going to be a cakewalk. A soldier's life is a hard life, so you'd better get used to the idea. No more cushy job sitting in front of a computer screen or doodling schematics - this is actual work!" As he'd suspected, although a couple of the Irkens in line got distasteful looks on their faces, not a one of them dared say that science wasn't a cushy job.

"Time for you lot to see your new... accommodations." He reached back over his shoulder and his pak opened obligingly. From it, he drew an electrical prod. "Fall in and follow me. A Squadron in front, and E in the rear." He tapped the prod against his palm and sparks of blue electricity emerged from its tip. The recruits carefully settled into a new line, with surprisingly less trouble than than he'd anticipated. He caught a few of the trainees glancing at the prod in his grasp with vary expressions of wariness and fear. He doubted there was a one of them who would deliberately make trouble while he had the item in his hand, ready for use on any miscreant daring to step out of line.

He was smirking a little and not doing a thing to disguise it as they marched towards the "A" barracks. Years of experience had provided the Irken instructors with a tried and true formula for training would-be soldiers. Although once they had kept all of their squadrons in the same large barracks, it had proven to be a method that was more trouble than help. The better trainees would associate with those who were worthless, and it would affect their performance. Some of them did react as expected - taking the opportunity to show up their weaker peers, but others had slacked off - probably thinking (and rightly so) that anything they did was going to be better than what the lesser squadrons could manage anyway. A few of them had even - Irk forbid - felt sorry for the cannon fodder. It was a weakness that didn't have to exist, as long as the groups were kept apart.

So A squadron was put in the best barracks available on Devastis. Of course, this was purely a matter of parallels. The barracks were undoubtedly in horrendous condition compared to what the former scientists were accustomed to. Grob snorted, they could just get used to it. He wasn't training scientists, by the goddess, he was training soldiers! Soldiers could deal with unsanitary conditions without whining!

Grob drew the line to a halt in front of the unkempt building. "A Squadron, this will be your barracks. This is your 'home' for the duration of your stay on Devastis." He marched to a fifth of the way down the line, where A Squadron ended and B Squadron began. "You will be expected to take care of your 'home' during this time. I will be conducting surprise inspections to make sure everything is in order." He turned away from the recruits, "Pak - time!"

His pak beeped, and Grob tilted his head slightly to one side. "You lot have two hours to get this hole cleaned up and livable before we begin training. And I expect you all to be working! If I find out anyone is slacking, they'll be doing KP duty for the rest of their training period. After they dig their head out of their lower pak compartment, that is!" The A Squadron members winced, but did not move. "What are you waiting for maggots? Get your sorry antennae in gear!"

As A Squadron began moving into their barracks, Grob wasted no time in getting the rest of the trainees moving again. A few of them cast looks back at the scrambling Irkens and their barracks, but a jab or two from the prod set them straight with astounding speed.

From B through D, this process was repeated - nearly word for word, in fact. Grob knew the whole spiel like he knew the inner workings of his pak, and it was the best way of getting the point across in the least amount of time_. Leave them room to question and they'll start to get ideas._ Ideas were the last things a soldier needed to have.

Once D Squadron was safely assigned to their new barracks and cleaning like mad to make up for the fact that they had half the amount of time that A Squadron had been afforded, Grob turned to the remaining Irkens. E Squadron. He wasn't altogether sure what to do with them, actually. The last time there'd been an E Squadron on Devastis, it had been completely obliterated - including the barracks they had been housed in. He supposed he could have taken them to the ruins of the E barracks, but it was probably bad enough that they were all going to die anyway.

_Careful. No need to start getting soft - not after all this time._ Grob glowered at the motley group of Irkens, and they stared back at him with dread reflecting in their eyes. Not a one of them could meet his gaze for more than a few seconds without flinching away. Once they all seemed appropriately cowed, including the so-called 'squadron commander' that he'd assigned, Grob ran over the matter in his mind again. After all, they needed to be put somewhere, and there was no reason that it had to be somewhere that was in particularly good shape...

Wait. Grob's antennae perked, an action that drew the attention of the hapless trainees. Their gazes all turned back to him, their own antennae twitching hopefully. Grob growled low in his throat and they immediately went back to staring at the ground. "You're the sorriest lot of maggots I've ever had the misfortune to train," he began acerbically, "and I've trained more soldiers than you could even begin to count. I don't care how you got by before, you're on Devastis now, and I won't accept any slacking. Now, come on." He turned and started to march away, leaving the stunned trainees to follow him as quickly as they could manage and still keep in formation.

Devastis had been a military training planet since the very beginning of the Irken Empire. It was, of course, divided into sectors - one was for the new trainees, the other for soldiers requiring advanced training in their fields. Grob, of course, specialized in training the former. This section of Devastis was the one that was most like the condition of the planet when they'd arrived. Uneven, rocky ground giving way to pockets of marshy flatland, and a few areas that contained clumps of sparsely distributed trees. Not exactly the most welcoming of places - but they hadn't exactly had to fight hard to take the planet either.

E Squadron's new barracks was in one of the areas that Grob and the other instructors didn't often bother with anymore. It was based on the far side of a fairly high ridge, tucked between the side of the incline and the swampy area just beyond it. It was sticky, humid and full of numerous vermin. It also hadn't been used for centuries.

Perfect.

And the unsuspecting cannon fodder - otherwise known as E Squadron - were unable to do little more than stare at this so-called barracks while Grob told them they had half an hour to get the place in order before the real training began. There was no way on Irk that they'd manage it. But it wasn't his job to be fair - just to train soldiers.

It was a lot easier to remember that when he'd left the group behind, and he didn't have to think about the disbelieving looks on their faces as they began to clean

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More Author's Notes:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the prologue to this fic. I'm afraid that Crow won't be showing up again for a while, but never fear – everything will be explained in time. I have many plans for the future – big plans. But they will have to remain undisclosed until I'm closer to finishing this story. In the meantime, thanks to Dibsthe1, FlyingMetalChild and MaranZelde for reviewing – I really appreciate it.


	3. Ghost!

**The Little Things**

**Book One: Trainee**

Notes: This fic currently has no beta-reader, so my mistakes are my own. Thanks to PolyesterRage for reviewing chapter 1. . **  
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-02-

The E Squadron barracks were a mess - that was really the only polite way to put it. Skoodge looked around as he entered the building - as Squadron Commander it apparently fell on him to go inside first. But he knew very well that this 'unwritten rule' was mostly the result of none of the others wanting to go anywhere near their new barracks. And it wasn't like they had to, after all - they were scientists, he was just a lowly sanitation drone. His newly assigned rank made no difference whatsoever and everyone knew it.

A single step inside and dust clouded up around him, cutting off his vision for a few seconds and making it nearly impossible to breathe. Immediately, he started to hack and cough, trying to clear his airway while staggering blindly forward. He'd moved only a few steps before he bumped into something hard and unyielding. Whatever it was, it came to just below his chest and succeeded at knocking out what little air he'd managed to get. The small Irken doubled over with a groan, teeth bared in a grimace. By the time the pain had given way to a dull throbbing in his midsection, the dust had settled again, leaving a powdery coating on every available surface.

Skoodge pushed himself to his feet and discovered that as long as he kept his movements slow and cautious, the layered dust would remain pretty much where it was. Drawing in a short hissing breath between his teeth, he proceeded forward, narrowing his magenta eyes in the dim light.

The first thing he noticed was that it wasn't nearly as dark as he might have expected, given the lack of a lighting system. Nor did it take a genius to figure out exactly why this was - the far wall was crumbling, allowing sunlight to filter in. What remained was a jagged barrier that ranged from about five feet at its highest point to slightly under a foot at its lowest. Skoodge was no expert on the matter, but a broken in wall didn't seem like the best way to keep enemies out.

His eyes flitted over the remainder of the room. There were no lurking predators - surely what the squadron had been fearing when they'd pressed him to enter first. The room was pretty barren actually, with only a few decrepit metal bunks, the remains of a table and a few strips of cloth hanging from the ceiling.

As Skoodge continued to survey the area, edging forward - although his caution was now just as much inspired by a growing sense of looming danger as it was by the lack of desire to breathe in massive quantities of dust. His wariness seemed to be unfounded though, as he reached the back of the barracks and found nothing more threatening than a few particularly large dustbunnies. He glanced around once more, letting out a faint sigh of relief before he straightened up completely. Well, that's that. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as the realization sank in - he was still alive! His antennae perked as he turned and headed back towards the front, intending to relay this good news to the rest of the squadron. For the moment, all thoughts of the ordeal thatw as surely to come were driven away in a surge of giddy happiness.

No longer was he moving with the typical 'cringe and shuffle' that was the hallmark of a sanitation drone - he almost had a proper march as he crossed the dusty room, his eyes fixed on his goal. It wasn't until he brought his foot down and felt something shifting beneath his weight that he considered the possibilities that were still inherant in the situation. Skoodge froze in his tracks, a worse move than continuing forward would have been - it left his weight unbalanced and reliant on whatever he was standing on to hold him. He felt it shift, took a step and promptly had the limb slip out from beneath him - sending him unceremoniously to the floor.

The dust billowed up immediately, obsecuring the room from his view as he hissed softly, feeling a flare of pain where he'd managed to slam the side of his head against a metal bunkframe. He struggled to push himself upright, bracing his weight on his hands and slowly easing to his hands and knees. As the dust settled, something began to appear in his clearing vision. It was merely a blob of dusky green at first - the color interspersed with areas of a darker red. It wasn't until he blinked and things snapped back into focus that he realized just what he was looking at.

The green he'd seen was an Irken, but not one of his squadron members. He didn't know them all by sight of course, but it was still rather obvious that this Irken wasn't one of them. Whoever this poor fellow was - had been might have been the more apt description, actually - he was also quite obviously dead. Skoodge was face to face with a corpse!

He was back on his feet in a move that was too fast for his mind to register, not noticing or particularly caring about the dust that clouded up again at his renewed movement. His panicked thoughts, mental images of being torn limb from limb that had previously been quelled, spurred him onward once more. He rushed for the door at a mad dash, drawing his spider legs in a panic and finding them more hinderance than help as they caught in the tattered cloth hanging from the rafters overhead. Quickly he retracted them again, hearing a loud rip and feeling something brush his arm.

His shriek of terror reverberated off of the barrack walls, announcing his presence to the squadron outside. Skoodge never saw them as he barrelled out the doorway - his vision mostly obscured by the cloth that had somehow managed to become wrapped around his head. He never saw them... But he heard them well enough - their own voices rising in varying yelps and wails of fear, the crashing of brush that arose as they scattered - presumably running from whatever had attacked him.

The flapping cloth that covered his eyes fluttered aside for a moment, allowing him to see the tree that was rushing to greet him. They came together with a solid, resounding thunk and it was Skoodge, not the foliage, who hit the ground with a distinctly unpleasant buzzing echoing through his skull. It took him a moment or to before he realized that the buzzing wasn't emerging from somewhere in the vicinity of the tree that had felled him. He sat up slowly, groaning a little as he raised one hand to his aching head, touching the sore area gingerly. Yeah, that was going to leave a bruise - he pulled his fingers away with a pained hiss, then looked around.

His sight blurred and cleared for a few seconds, dizziness racing through him. He was alone in the clearing with no sign of an attacker and no sign of his troops anywhere. Great... He didn't want to get up - it had just occurred to him that he could lie here quietly and maybe the planet's predators wouldn't even notice he was here. It wasn't like they wouldn't have a lot of other Irkens to chase around and devour - not with his entire squadron scampering around out there somewhere. Lying here would be so much easier than even bothering to go through with this farce of military training. Grob didn't think his squadron would make it - surely someone like him wouldn't have been put in charge if that wasn't the case. It was just the sort of thing that he would have done in the same situation.

No. Actually it wasn't. That was the irony. He wouldn't have put himself in charge if he'd been the one making the choices. And the reason he wouldn't have done any such thing was because he knew nothing about being a military leader. Lead troops? That was a laugh! If he'd been making the decisions, he would have picked the one who could lead - who knew about how one could go about surviving on an alien planet. Someone who would be able to command the squadron well enough to keep them alive. But that was a laugh too - because a military leader wouldn't have had any idea what to do with the Irkens under his command. They weren't soldiers - they were scientists. How did a bunch of scientists survive under such hostile conditions? Skoodge wasn't sure, and he knew that was why they couldn't survive. The odds were entirely stacked against them - unless they could think like soldiers and act like soldiers. And if that was the case, they'd survive only if they had a leader who could lead soldiers. Skoodge sighed and shook his head. That was a very circular argument, and he couldn't see a solution for it. Well, other than them all dying, of course.

That was just wonderful. Looking at it from that angle, he could only come to the conclusion that he would be better off just staying right here and doing nothing at all. It wouldn't make any difference in the long run whether he led them or just remained sprawled out on his back under a tree and waited for them to be picked off one by one. Skoodge closed his eyes, his decision made.

He didn't know how long he remained there - he'd actually managed to sort of distance himself from his surroundings when he felt something brush against the side of his face and felt his entire body jerk with fear. He was sitting up before he even realized he was moving, his stout body shaking a little bit. It was right about then that he made a rapid 180 degree turn in his reasoning. It was one thing to know they were all going to die - it was quite another to just wait for death to come to him. "I don't want to die," Skoodge mumbled, carefully sitting up and feeling a little relieved when he didn't immediately feel the world flip end over end. His pak had done a few repairs and his headache had been reduced considerably - it wasn't completely gone - but at least that gave him a sense of timeframe. He hadn't been here long if his head was still hurting.

The short Irken struggled to his feet, not bothering to dust himself off - he never even thought about doing so. He was used to being dusty and covered with stuff, it was just part of life when one was a sanitation drone. What mattered for the moment was tracking down his squadron, or at least as much of it as he could find, and bringing it back to clean up their barracks. He had no idea just what Grob would do if he came here and found them with this place still in such a state of disarray, but he wasn't altogether sure that he wanted to find out. Then again, just having Grob show up and find no one but Skoodge at the barracks was just as unappealing a notion. No, he had to find his squadron. He looked around, and had no trouble spotting their tracks - it seemed that they'd pretty much gone off in a big herd in the same general direction, and they hadn't spent any time at all bothering to cover their tracks either. He sighed and began to follow the clear pathway, trying not to trip over any of the branches that had been trampled down by the squadron's passage. It wasn't hard to follow their trail at all - and it seemed that they hadn't even managed to go very far. He found the first straggler only a short distance away, half trampled into the dirt and unconcious. He didn't even recognize who it was - not surprising given that he hadn't known their names to begin with. He carefully turned the unconcious Irken over and double checked to make sure there were no serious injuries - not that he would have been able to do much to help if there had been, but at least he thought to check. With a sigh, he stood up straight, not certain he wanted to leave the wounded Irken there, but not sure what else he could do. "I'll be back soon..." He muttered, even though there was really no way whoever it was could have heard him at all.

For a moment he remained standing over the other Irken, then he began to run down the beaten down path, thinking that if he could only catch up with the rest of them, that he would be able to find a bit of security in their increased numbers. As he came upon the next two - both wheezing and gasping and leaning against the nearest trees, they turned to look in his direction with alarm clear on their faces. One was male, one was female, but aside from that he could make very little distinction - certainly he still didn't know their names. Both of them saw him coming and instead of greeting him with a salute, or even just by saying hello, they both reacted as though they'd seen a monster. The male squealed, his voice high and quavery before he fell over in a dead faint. The female was of a bit sterner stuff though, and she took one look at her commander and immediately seemed to catch her second wind, taking off down the trail as though she had a whole hoarde of slaughtering rat people after her. Skoodge was so startled that he just stood there blinking stupidly for a moment. He just didn't understand it - he wasn't that ugly was he? With a long-suffering sigh, he started out after her, determined to make some sense of this odd situation.

He rounded a clump of trees and saw the rising swell of earth ahead of him and recognized it as another side of the cliff the barracks was pressed against - he'd essentially just run in a wide circle around the raised area. He would have thought it a bit of a waste if he hadn't seen the group of Irkens milling about uncertainly in the cliff's shadow. Given the amount of broken branches beneath his feet, he hardly had a chance to approach them quietly. By the time he came into their view, all of them were straining to look in his direction, some of them had their antennae perked, others had them flattened back in fear or unease. They were expecting some kind of a monster - perhaps whatever they thought had been lurking in the barracks. Surely they would be greatly relieved to find out it was just Skoodge?

But they didn't seem relieved at all, their eyes went wide as soon as he came into view, and silence stretched out for a few long moments as he strode towards them. It was as though they couldn't even find any words. Then, just as quickly as the deadly silence had fallen, it was shattered into a million pieces. Someone screamed out something incomprehensible, and that was all it took to send the entire group into something like a panic. A couple of them scrambled for cover - what cover they could find in the mostly barren place against the cliffside, anyway. More alarming than that, a couple of them appeared about ready to attack him - one of them even went so far as to pull the spider legs out of his pak, dropping into a crouch and baring his teeth. Again, the reaction startled Skoodge. He wasn't sure what to make of it at all - but he decided to err on the side of caution and stopped moving towards them. They continued to regard him with varying expressions of fear and suspicion. Seeing that he was coming no further, they started to look around at each other questioningly.

Skoodge made a soft noise in his throat, faintly annoyed but still not quite a growl. "What do you think you're doing?" They seemed even more surprised upon hearing him speak, as though they hadn't been expecting it anyway.

One of them finally spoke up, a little shakily still, "Keep away from us, ghost! Don't come any nearer or we'll... we'll..." The speaker glanced around at the others, as though seeking help to come up with a suitable threat to use. The nearest ones shook their heads, obviously unable to think of anything. It was ok, Skoodge was a bit too busy trying to figure out why they thought he was a ghost to notice such trivial matters. Certainly he didn't feel very ghostlike. He pinched himself and winced - nope, he was definitely solid. But the other Irkens obviously didn't seem to realize this fact. With a sigh, Skoodge shook his head and walked towards them again, determined to straighten out this obvious misunderstanding. He wasn't sure what he was expecting as he did it - although the possibility of them deciding to attack him despite believing he was some kind of spirit was the most likely in his estimation.

Strangely enough they didn't. They didn't even try to attack him. As soon as he was within a few feet of them, they shrank back as far as they could against the rock face, one of them even fell to his knees and sort of cringed. What was going on here? Perhaps they thought he'd been eaten by a predator - that would have explained why they might have thought him a ghost, but even so, it seemed like a bit of a overwhelming reaction for something so very simple. He raised his hand to prod the kneeling Irken, but stopped halfway through the gesture as he noticed that his arm was covered with something white. Completely covered actually, without a hint of any other color showing through. He blinked, forgetting about what he was doing for the moment as he quickly surveyed himself. For the first time he saw the dangling rags, the wisps of whitish gray dust rising around him faintly with every movement he made. Oh.

_Oh!_ Even as the realization hit, some part of him refused to really grasp it. This was the closest he'd ever had to respect shown to him - in all the years he'd been alive he had also always been the lowly one, the butt of everyone's jokes. He was the short, ugly Irken who was useless for everything but cleaning up after those who were better than he could hope to be. Except... Except that none of that had any bearings on what was happening now. A joke he might have been, but he was a joke that they were taking seriously. For just a moment he knew what it was like to be tall and he couldn't help but wish that the moment didn't have to end.

As he tried to wrap his mind around what was going on, the gathered Irkens were becoming more and more confused - undoubtedly wondering why this horrible spectre was not attempting to attack them. The bolder trainees were even starting to shift uncomfortably, a move that Skoodge noticed with a jab of alarm - the last thing he needed was for them to run him through or shoot him before he had a chance to reveal himself. The moment of euphoria dissolved under the cold dash of reality this thought afforded him. He let it go with only the smallest pang. It had been an appealing dream, but it was just that: a dream.

"It's me!" He called out to them, watching the expressions on their faces change. Surprise and disbelief were warring with superstition and the process was fascinating to watch. Finally one of them stepped forward, antennae still flattened back tightly against his head as he carefully reached out one hand closer to Skoodge. For a brief moment Skoodge felt the overwhelming urge to yell "Boo!" at the other Irken, but refrained. One claw jabbed at his chest, lightning fast, then drew back almost as quickly. Its owner scowled, then reached out and poked Skoodge again, as though to confirm. The tenseness bled out of his form as his finger didn't pass through Skoodge after this second verification.

"It is you." The other Irken made a soft noise of disgust and Skoodge realized that this was someone he recognized. The voice had clued him in - this was Kru, and Skoodge was quite thoroughly surprised to find he was among the trainees under his command. Kru wasn't even a scientist - he was merely a delivery drone, barely above Skoodge in rank. Apparently, Skoodge mused, he hadn't been the only one to suffer an unexpected reassignment. Still, he couldn't help but think it was ironic - if he hadn't been in this squadron, Kru would have been the lowest ranking. Fortunately for the other drone, Skoodge's status elevated him immensely. The tone of the taller Irken's voice was a disappointment though - for whatever foolish reason, Skoodge had been hoping that the respect for him would last.

_Quit dreaming,_ The realist in him insisted, _It could never happen. _"Yes, it is." He sighed inwardly. "The barracks are secure." He paused, then quickly accessed his pak's cronometer. They didn't have much time if they were going to get their barracks into even the vaguest semblance of cleanliness. "Grob will be expecting us soon... I don't think it's a good idea to leave the barracks the way they are." The rest of the squadron was slowly coming over and he did a quick mental headcount. Thirteen, plus the two he'd passed on the trail - amazingly enough that accounted for everyone he'd had assigned to him.

There was quite a bit of grumbling at this, but they were intimidated by Grob even if they weren't impressed by Skoodge and they began to shuffle past him. A few of them bumped him as they passed, a move that Skoodge couldn't help but think was deliberate. He stood and watched them pass until the clearing was empty, then he turned and trailed along after them, feeling shorter than ever.


	4. Trapped

**The Little Things**

**Book One: Trainee**

Notes: This chapter has not been beta-read – any mistakes are my own. If anyone is interested in beta-reading TLT, please contact me and let me know. Also, for readers of TTBU – there is an update coming soon. Unlike this story, I would prefer to put out the epilogue of The Things Between Us in a polished form.

**-03-**

The trip back to the barracks was fairly uneventful after that madcap dash that he'd been led on by his squadron. He remained trailing in the rear for the most part and he didn't miss the occasional glances they would throw him over their shoulders. It didn't take a genius to realize what they were probably thinking - that he'd done it on purpose. It was enough to make him want to yank at his own antennae in frustration, but he didn't really know why it might ever have occurred to him that they should have thought something else. He was just a drone, he reminded himself frostily, and a sanitation drone at that. To expect anything else would be arrogant and to wish for anything else would be foolish.

A short distance back along the path they'd beaten down in their terror, the troop passed by the Irken male who had fainted upon seeing Skoodge. He was only just beginning to sit up and look around in confusion when they started to shuffle past him. When he caught sight of Skoodge though, still draped in tattered cloth and covered with pale gray dust, he squealed loudly in alarm, "G-ghost!" He raised a hand and pointed a shaking finger directly at the barely recognizable squadron commander and tried to backpedal without ever getting to his feet.

This reaction, while not particularly surprising, was still somewhat disconcerting to the shorter Irken who'd been placed in charge of these scientists - former scientists, he reminded himself sternly. But the reactions of the rest of the squadron were a bit more severe and markedly less lenient. They shoved past him, forcing him to struggle to remain on his feet. It was a battle quickly lost when someone introduced an elbow sharply to the poor unfortunate's midsection. Skoodge came to a halt beside the downed scientist.

"Are you okay?" He wasn't sure why he bothered asking - the likelihood of a coherent answer was pretty slim. As a long moment passed with nothing but sputters and not-even-approaching coherent speech, Skoodge thought he'd calculated those odds pretty well. Therefore he was startled when the taller Irken managed an answer.

"F...fine." From the look on the scientist's face, he wasn't fine. Instead he was terrified. He probably thinks I'm going to eat him or something Skoodge mused, not at all surprised by this quick assumption. He had that brief sensation of pleasure at having a taller Irken - technically his superior in every way - sitting in front of him and shaking with undisguised fear. Of course, leaving him like this was out of the question. Skoodge almost sighed, a quaking idiot was only marginally worse than one in full control of his mental faculties, but they already needed all the help they could get if they were going to survive this planet.

"I'm not a ghost," He said, hearing the slight edge in his voice and wondering when he'd developed it, "I'm Skoodge." Then he shook his head drawing his lips back in a grimace of distaste, "Get up and go back to the barracks with the others, we don't have much time."

The sheer audacity of his words was not lost on Skoodge - he'd never expected to be giving orders to someone four inches taller than him and doubtless with years or even centuries more of training than he could ever have dreamed of having. But so it was and as the scientist carefully peeled himself off of the ground, Skoodge felt a rush of exhilaration. Maybe he could do this after all! As the two of them continued forward, he couldn't help but notice the occasional odd looks that the other Irken was giving him – the fear seemed to have finally abated but curiousity had taken its place. The scientist was examining Skoodge as though he'd grown another head.

The intense scrutiny was almost more uncomfortable than the disdain he'd fended off earlier, but Skoodge did his best to ignore it. They were already coming upon the unlucky Irken who'd managed to get himself trampled earlier. The scientist was still unconscious and showing no signs of that changing anytime soon. "We'll have to carry him back..." Skoodge concluded, and the taller Irken beside him looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.

"Carry him?" There was a note of incredulity in his voice, and it didn't take a genius to understand why. Help another Irken without any promise of personal gain? It just wasn't done! And to ask such a thing from a scientist who never had to do anything more physical than walking from their quarters to their lab, well, that was even worse! The taller Irken's lips were drawn back in a slight grimace, finding the notion to be extremely distasteful. "I'm sure he'll do just fine if we leave him there." He began, looking at Skoodge with an expression that was very nearly pleading.

Skoodge sighed inwardly – he didn't need this. "Something would probably eat him," He pointed out and was not surprised when the only response he got was a puzzled tilt of the head.

"So? That means one less hungry thing that could eat us."

There was nothing wrong with the logic – in fact, the other Irken had a really good point. Skoodge was already kneeling beside the downed scientist and sliding his arms underneath the limp male's body, but it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to carry (or even drag) the larger Irken very far without help. He looked up at the loitering scientist, who had obviously had enough time to regain a semblance of composure – he was giving Skoodge a look that wasn't quite haughty yet but one that suggested that he didn't think much of the idea of stooping to carrying someone. Instead he just watched as the small Irken tried to move the larger one and failed miserably.

Skoodge gave it an attempt, barely managing to slide the unconscious scientist a few inches before being forced to stop, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the barracks. At this rate he would be lucky to get them back there in the span of several hours – time that he didn't have. Grob's order to them meant that time was limited and even if it hadn't been, the wild beasts of this region would surely converge quickly enough on wounded prey. They were rather like rank-hungry Irkens in that regard.

Frustration bubbled up in him as he tried again, his legs straining as he pulled the other a little further, his red eyes narrowed as he looked towards the watching scientist. "Hey, uh..." Well, he couldn't keep calling them 'hey you', could he? That would get confusing very quickly. "What's your name?"

Dusky red eyes widened a little, the scientist he was addressing hesitating a moment before shrugging. "Ceti."

"I'm Skoodge," He couldn't help the automatic reply – he always introduced himself when assigned to a new location, despite the fact that an Irken his size tended to be quickly forgotten.

If the slight sneer of distaste on Ceti's face was any clue, he was not likely to slip under the radar so easily here. "I know who you are, Commander." He gave the rank a mocking inflection and Skoodge laid his antennae back in annoyance. Only a few minutes ago, the other Irken had been quivering in terror at the sight of him!

He couldn't keep a bit of irritation out of his own voice now, "Please help me carry him s- Ceti." He'd almost called the scientist 'Sir' – a gaffe that would have made him even more of a laughingstock. Proper address or not, Ceti had a stubborn expression that was answer enough. Maybe it was time to try a different approach. "The longer I have to spend dragging him by myself, the longer we'll be out in the open for predators."

Ceti's mouth opened, but he didn't get any words out. A loud crash somewhere off in the brush cut off anything he might have said, and both he and Skoodge froze in their tracks and stared in the direction of the noise. There was a long stretch of silence, enough to lull the two into a false sense of security before another one came – this time closer. Skoodge could hear a low rumbling now, a particularly ominous sound.

Skoodge yelped out a curse, almost dropping the unconscious Irken he was dragging. "Help me move him!"

"Forget it!" Ceti hissed at him, braced to run. "I can get back faster on my own! There's no way I'm risking my neck!"

Ironically it was Ceti's fear that served as inspiration for Skoodge. His eyes widened as a wild thought struck him – it was a long shot, but it was his only option at the moment. "I swear, if I get eaten here, I'm gonna haunt you forever!" He growled the threat, trying to emulate the tone Grob had used when addressing them earlier. Whether it was a concession to his former ghostly status or an indication that Skoodge had managed to force a certain amount of intimidation into his voice, Ceti actually hesitated. His gaze flicked between the shorter Irken and the relative safety of the barracks in the distance.

Skoodge was sure that he'd make a run for it anyway and that he'd be left to face whatever was coming with only the unconscious form of an Irken he didn't even know to keep him company in his last moments. So the unexpected shift in weight caused by Ceti grabbing the downed scientist by the feet almost sent Skoodge to his knees. He recovered with only a few stumbles, his grip tightening on the arms of their passenger as both of them dashed towards the barracks. It was an awkward run, even with help – Ceti was taller than him and had longer legs, his own short limbs meant that he was taking five or six steps for each of the scientist's. Adding to that the fact that he almost had to crab-walk to move and still keep his grip and it was a wonder they were making any progress at all.

On the other side of their cargo, Ceti was panting, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a particularly unattractive manner as he wheezed and gasped. Skoodge doubted he was much better – he could feel a sharp jabbing in his side that made him want to stop for just a moment to ease the pain. The thought fled his mind completely as the brush near where they'd been arguing split open – branches and leaves flying everywhere as a huge beast emerged from the tangled foliage. The former sanitation drone's eyes got as wide as saucers but somehow his legs continued to carry him forward. On the other side of the body they were carrying, Ceti was coughing out a litany of curses that seemed out of place coming from someone accustomed to the sheltered lifestyle of the Sciences. He said something that made no sense to Skoodge and left the smaller Irken grasping for something to reply with, "I wish I had a remote!" Really, what was he supposed to say to that?

A roar from behind them reminded him sharply that he would have plenty of time to think of something if they actually survived this. The building rose up ahead of them and Skoodge could see several pairs of wide Irken eyes peering out from the doorway. Then the opening began to shrink in his vision and he realized with a bit of panic that the rest of the squadron was tying to close the door. If they succeeded, it would not only shut the monster out, but the three fleeing Irkens as well! "Hurry," He screeched at Ceti, noticing their hope of escape rapidly disappearing.

"We'll never make it!" The scientist whined but lengthened his strides. Skoodge ignored this nay-saying and darted a quick glance behind him. The beast with a mouth full of sharp teeth and strings of slobber hanging from its hungry maw. His antennae went flat against his head, determination to live rising within him. He didn't want to die – not here on this miserable planet, not with the humiliation of being a failed soldier heaped upon his head. Across from him, Ceti was babbling in terror, his words running over each other in their haste, "They're closing it! Irk save me, they can't do that! They can't! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

"Just keep going!" Skoodge yelped back, ducking his head in an attempt to make himself smaller as they reached the threshold. The moving door struck his shoulder, sending him careening wildly into Ceti's path. He could hear the scientist's renewed cursing, although it was largely incomprehensible. It was barely worth his attention anyway, his focus was on something more worrisome. His grip on the unconscious soldier they were carrying faltered at last, his clawed fingers grasping convulsively but unable to find purchase. The limp form fell to the floor in front of him, tangling his feet and sending him skidding into the barracks. He heard the loud crash of the door shutting only moments before Ceti's weight came down hard across his back and drove the air from his lungs.

Skoodge flailed, trying to scramble out from beneath the larger Irken. There was some grumbling coming from around them – it seemed the rest of the squadron wasn't quite so happy about their narrow escape as Skoodge himself was. When a large body slammed into the front of the barracks with enough force to make the building quiver alarmingly, he couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for their point of view. With someone outside to serve as prey, the creature would probably have already have satisfied its hunger and left. Could it break its way inside? Skoodge managed to disentangle himself at last, struggling to his feet and coughing as the action stirred up the dust even further. 'This is great' he thought, not without some sarcasm. Even if they managed to get this place cleaned up – and the possibility of that was already slim enough to be negligible – there was no way they would be able to report back to Grob on time.

The building shook again, the motion wringing a few startled cries and curses from its occupants. "Maybe it'll give up and go away," Someone piped up hopefully. This bit of foolishness was quickly silenced by a combination of snide rejoinders and silent contempt. A few more blows against the front wall rapidly silenced any further remarks as the Irkens hunkered down and kept their eyes fixed on the door. Skoodge could hear someone muttering under their breath – it took him a while to realize the other trainee was counting the seconds between the crashes. Still, as badly built and rundown as the building looked, nothing had fallen in just yet. Silence stretched out for longer than it had previously and Skoodge found himself counting the time in his head as well. The longer the quiet stretched out, the more restless the squadron became.

One of the Irkens eased over to the door. In the midst of the lingering airborne dust, all Skoodge could make out was that the bold individual was taller than him – which was no surprise – and very solidly built. He also had an air of casualness that the shorter Irken could not help but envy. As the individual in question reached out to grasp at the handle and proceeded to maneuver the door open a fraction, everyone in the building went completely still. Skoodge noticed that the other Irken was holding something in one hand and was idly rubbing his thumb over it but he couldn't make out exactly what it was.

Nothing rushed in the open door but the trainee closed it again with slow care before turning back to look at the others. "It's still out there." He commented in a rather bland tone, tapping the item he was carrying against the side of his face. Skoodge recognised it now – it was a small explosive. It seemed like a strange thing for a scientist to be carrying around, but who was he to argue with someone carrying a volatile device like that? It was just too bad that they couldn't use it on the monster blocking their path without getting themselves eaten, blown up or both.

"We need to find a way to drive it off," Skoodge said, largely to himself. The rest of the squadron took it as a statement aimed at them, their voices rising in baleful mutters. The former sanitation drone laid his antennae back as he looked at them and saw several pairs of eyes glaring in his direction.

"Why don't you go out there and draw it off for us," Kru's caustic voice rang out above the others. If they disliked being drowned out by a delivery drone scarcely over three feet tall, it wasn't as bothersome to them as the thought of taking orders from a grubby little sanitation drone. No one spoke up in Skoodge's defense – it was clear that he would have a big struggle ahead of him just to get them to even consider listening to anything he said. The thought made him cringe back under their combined glares. If Grob hadn't made him leader...

But Grob **had** made him the leader of this group – whether he wanted the position or not. If they got out of this alive, the squadron would be expected to follow his orders as though he was actually their commander instead of a floor scrubber. It was something he was going to have to get used to. He straightened up a bit, finding that the illusion of authority lent him some confidence. They noticed the change in his stance immediately and regarded him with varying degrees of wary interest.

"We don't need somebody to draw it off," Skoodge said, considering his choices more than paying attention to his words. His options in this scenario seemed pretty limited – either he had to serve as a decoy and lure the monster away, thus allowing his squadron to proceed to their destination without being attacked, or he had to command someone else to do so. The second of those two was likely to arouse the ire of the troops under his command since his height put him on the lowest rung as far as value went. An ideal solution, of course, would be to find away to get rid of the monster without sacrificing anyone – most especially himself!

Unfortunately, his unthinking reply had already been taken at face value and, as expected, it was treated with contempt. Muttered comments about the improbability of his statement rose like a wave with a few louder and more biting remarks standing out above the crowd.

"That's a great idea! Why don't we just let it **stay** out there?!"

"Why don't we just fill the stupid thing with bullets?"

"Statistically speaking, the likelihood of it leaving before our scheduled rendezvous with the other groups is slim enough that it might as well be considered an impossibility."

"What was wrong with the whole 'send someone to distract it' idea?"

Skoodge shook his head at the nearly overwhelming auditory input, raising one hand into the air in a gesture for quiet. It went completely unnoticed, causing him to have to resort to more extreme measures. "Everyone, would you **please** quiet down!?" As polite as his words were, the sheer volume of them was difficult to ignore. All eyes went to the frazzled little Irken. For his part, Skoodge was so startled at this ready obedience that he stared right back at him, flabbergasted. After a long moment of silence, Skoodge cleared his throat. "I... um..." he faltered and forced himself to continue, "I'm sure we can find a way to get rid of it without having to send someone out there." 'Especially if that someone is me!' he added mentally.

Someone only a short distance away shifted uneasily – Skoodge recognised Ceti's voice when the other Irken spoke, "Do you really think that's possible?" He sounded more confused than hostile, perhaps because he and Skoodge had made that very narrow escape earlier. _'Well, that's something anyway.'_ Skoodge thought.

"Or are you just saying that because you know no one would listen to you if you ordered them to do it?" Kru voiced what most of the squadron was undoubtedly thinking. "I mean, who here would listen to someone as short as you just because Grob said you get to be commander?"

He had a point, that much was clear. Neither his words nor his tone were particularly unexpected – what Skoodge hadn't been anticipating was the eager voice ringing out in response, "I'd do it!" Both Kru and Skoodge turned to regard the obvious lunatic who had just uttered those words. The Irken in question was not familiar to Skoodge at all- he was a little over half a foot taller than the once-service drone with bright red eyes, a wide smile and a stance that could only be described as "perky". The shorter Irken was still struggling to find something to say to this eager volunteer when someone else took advantage of the situation, grabbing the obviously young Irken by the arm and dragging him towards the door. Anyone who didn't scramble out of the way found themselves knocked down, jostled aside or otherwise compelled to clear a pathway.

As easy as it would have been to let the foolish Irken go ahead and get himself killed – thus solving the problem for everyone else – Skoodge couldn't help but feel a little bad at the notion. They would have been just as eager to do the same to him only moments ago. _ 'Besides,'_ a stray thought piped up, _'that crazy Irken is probably the only one here who might actually listen if I give a command._' Skoodge stepped forward, "Stop that! We're not going to send him out there to be eaten!"

The attention immediately went back to their so-called commander. "Why not?" Kru again – Skoodge was beginning to really dislike the sound of his voice. "A real leader would know when to sacrifice someone so the rest of us don't get mauled!"

"Someone's going to have to go out eventually," The explosive-wielding Irken with the too-calm voice commented, "That this isn't going to go away on its own."

Skoodge looked from one to the other, not certain which of these comments to address first. He chose to address Kru, mostly because the difference in their heights wasn't as intimidating – and partially because the delivery drone was doing a much better job of getting under his skin. "Grob made me leader. Talk to him if you have a problem with it."

"I'm already talking to you," The other Irken shot back, "If you're such a good leader why do you need Grob to tell me so? Why not just prove it? Get us all out of here alive and maybe I'll consider calling you 'commander'!"

That was a challenge, pure and simple. It couldn't be ignored or else his tentative status as the leader of this group would cease to exist, except in name. He had one person who would listen to him and a couple more who might be willing to do so if he could prove he had any ideas that were worth their time. Besides, they still needed to get out of this mess somehow.

"I will." Skoodge said firmly, although he still had absolutely no clue how he could go about doing so. He wracked his brain, looking around the dilapidated barracks and trying to appear diligent – as if there might be something among the dust bunnies and worn out bed frames that could actually help. All he could see were a few desiccated corpses and the only thought they inspired was, _'I don't want to end up like them!'_

"So, if we're not going to lure it away with a decoy, what are we going to do?" The female voice uttering this question caught Skoodge off-guard. He turned his head to see who had spoken but only saw several of the taller males and the odd calm Irken who was still fiddling with that explosive of his. Skoodge's eyes lit up as a very strange idea popped into his head. It was a pretty desperate notion but, considering their situation, it was worth a try.

His intent stare did not go unnoticed and several of the other trainees slowly backed away, leaving the Irken he was scrutinizing alone in the center of the room. The individual in question blinked slowly at this, turning his head to look at Skoodge. "What?"

Skoodge smiled, "I think I do have an idea." The others stared at him with varying degrees of confusion.

"What's that?" Someone finally piped up.

"The thing wants a meal," Skoodge glanced at the door, his magenta eyes glittering. "Let's give it one..."


End file.
